“What a grand tour that sounds like,” Carson said.
Hal smirked. “Even if he does have to bring his mother with him.”
The carriage passed them without stopping, but to Douglas’s delight, it began to slow as it reached the end of the park. “I’ll lay odds they’re planning to stop at Gunter’s,” he said.
“Why do you say that?” Carson asked.
“Well, look at his mother!” Hal answered for Douglas. “She looks very well fed. I reckon she likes a cherry ice as much as the next person.”
“I was thinking mainly that it’s dastardly hot outside today,” Douglas said dryly.
Hal nodded. “I suppose the old lady does look a little wilted.”
Douglas picked up his pace, and his two friends had to hurry to keep up.
“You’re not thinking of going there, too?” Carson asked in surprise.
Douglas adjusted his hat against the breeze but did not slacken his pace. “Maybe I can speak to him.”
“But you’ve not even been introduced!” Carson pointed out.
“Then again, he is an American,” Hal put in. “They can be awfully casual about such things.”
Douglas grinned. “Exactly. And he has Scottish origins, so it’s for sure he’ll be wantin’ to talk wi’ me.” He said this with a thick brogue that caused the others to chuckle. Douglas had purposefully cultivated his speech to sound more English in order to better fit in among London’s well-to-do. However, he knew how to play up the Scottish lilt when he wanted.
The coach had far outpaced them, but when they turned the street corner onto the square where Gunter’s was located, there it stood. The footman sat on the box, keeping watch over the carriage and horses, but everyone else had gone inside.
“How do I look?” Douglas asked, straightening his cravat.
“Like the belle of the ball,” Hal said.
Douglas gave him a little shove in reply. “Why don’t you two wait here? The shop will be crowded.”
“Sure, we’ll just stand outside in the blistering sun while you cool yourself with a refreshing ice.”
Douglas realized his friend was right. It would be unkind to leave them here. He struggled to admit it, though, because he really wanted the opportunity to approach Mr. Carnegie alone.
“Don’t worry, we’ll keep out of your way,” Hal assured him. “No one wants your success more than we do. We want to be able to say our friend chums around with millionaires!”
“Indeed we do,” Carson agreed.
They walked into the shop. By now Carnegie’s party had been served. Douglas counted four women and six men in the group. They were seated at tables in a shady area behind the shop. Everyone except Mr. Carnegie. He was still at the counter, chatting with the proprietor, who wore a look of stunned surprise as Carnegie asked him about the costs and other details of transporting ice in the summertime.
Did the shop owner know who was addressing him? Or was his deference in response to the obvious wealth on display by the carriage and clothes of the whole entourage?
The shop owner paused midsentence when he saw Douglas and the others. Perhaps he was torn between the need to serve new customers and the fear of offending the wealthy one he already had.
Mr. Carnegie turned and met Douglas’s gaze. Douglas judged his expression to be inquisitive rather than unapproachable. He took a breath and, offering up a friendly smile, closed the gap between them.
“Good afternoon, sir. I believe you are Mr. Carnegie of Pittsburgh? My name is Douglas Shaw. I apologize for approaching you without an introduction, but curiously enough, you and I attended the same charity ball in New York two months ago. I was there at the invitation of Mr. Pender of Allied Manufacturing. He wanted to introduce me to you, but with such a large crowd, we did not have the opportunity.”
Douglas spoke in a rush, wanting to get the whole explanation out before Carnegie could stop him. He also made his Scottish brogue noticeable enough to ensure Carnegie would pick up on it. He finished by extending his hand to offer a handshake. It was a risky move. Douglas would look foolish if Carnegie brushed him off.
To his delight, Douglas’s gamble worked, and Carnegie accepted the handshake without hesitation. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Shaw. A fellow countryman, too, it seems. Where do you hail from?”
“Glasgow, sir. I’m a Lowlander like yourself, even though I grew up a ways from Dunfermline.”
Mr. Carnegie’s eyebrow raised at the mention of his hometown. He seemed pleased that Douglas knew this bit of information. “And why were you in America? I’m sorry I missed meeting you. I know Pender well. He’s a client of mine.”
“I was traveling on business for my employer, Mr. Josiah Henley of Henley and Company.”
Carnegie looked at him with approval. “Henley must place a great deal of trust in you to send you all the way to America on business.”
“I like to think I’ve earned it, sir. I’ve been working since I was twelve years old—first as a messenger boy and then as a telegraph operator.” Douglas didn’t elaborate on why he’d started working so early. Having come from poverty himself, Mr. Carnegie likely made the right assumptions. “I came to London ten years ago and started to work for Mr. Henley. I’m now his chief assistant, trusted with making new deals for the company.” Douglas knew this sounded boastful, but he felt no remorse, because every word was true. When he was in America, he’d once heard a man say, “If you can jump over the barn, it ain’t bragging to say so.”
Carnegie was studying Douglas with interest. “Did you know I also began as a messenger boy? Started work for Western Union when I was a lad of five.”
“Yes, sir, I know. Your story was recently in the Edinburgh Evening News, which I still enjoy reading even though I live in London now. The Scots are proud of your success.”
“I merely made the most of opportunities afforded to me by living in America. I’m not saying it’s impossible to rise in England, but it’s a lot more difficult.” He eyed Douglas. “I’ll bet you believe you’re the sort who could do it.”
Douglas held out his hands and gave a little shrug, conceding the point. “I can’t deny that’s my aim.”
Carnegie nodded. “No false modesty. Good. The fact that you were bold enough to approach me shows you’re not cowed by your ‘betters,’ that foolish word they use over here. Does Henley and Company do a lot of business in America?”
“Indeed we do. Primarily shipping grain from California and, to an increasing extent, from Oregon. We also import cotton from the Southern states.” Douglas almost felt a need to pinch himself. He was talking business with the great Andrew Carnegie! He spared a brief glance at his friends. They were seated at a table, grinning widely at his success.
“Is that so? I have a large share in the railroads out west—though I imagine an astute man such as yourself knows that already.”
“Yes, sir. In fact, I was hoping you and I might arrange a time to meet and further discuss the subject. Perhaps we might even be able to broker a mutually advantageous shipping venture?” It was an audacious offer to make so early in their acquaintance, but Douglas had learned that Americans respected men who didn’t waste time getting to their point.
Carnegie considered the idea. “That does sound interesting, but I’m afraid it won’t be immediately possible. My friends and I are departing London tomorrow. We’re traveling for the next few weeks, on our way up to Scotland. My mother and I have a hankering to see our hometown again.”
“Will you be coming back to London before returning to America? Perhaps we could meet then.”
Carnegie shook his head. “We’re taking a ship from Liverpool at the end of next month.”
“I would be happy to meet with you there. We have an office in Liverpool.” Douglas persisted because he could sense that Carnegie was willing to see him if the details could be worked out. He did not think the millionaire was deliberately trying to put him off.
Carnegie smiled. “I can tell you
are very interested in making this meeting happen. All right, I’ll see what I can do. We’ll probably get to Liverpool a day or two before the ship sails. We are making our travel arrangements on the fly, but I can telegraph you when I know the details. Have you a card?”
Douglas pulled a business card from his coat pocket. It contained his name and the address and telegraph information for Henley and Company’s London and Liverpool offices.
Carnegie read it over before pulling out a small notebook and placing the card inside. “I shall look forward to further discussions. If for some reason we are not able to connect in Liverpool, here is the information for getting in touch with me in New York.” He handed a card to Douglas. “Now, if you will excuse me, I should return to my friends. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Shaw.”
“I assure you the pleasure is all mine,” Douglas replied.
As Carnegie walked off, Douglas looked again toward the table where Hal and Carson were seated. They both looked the way Douglas felt—like they were barely suppressing the urge to jump up and down with excitement. Douglas had spoken to many wealthy men on his American itinerary, but none so powerful as this man.
Before joining his friends, Douglas turned to address the shop owner. The man had not even tried to hide that he’d been listening to their entire conversation. He grinned appreciatively at Douglas. “Well done, lad. Good luck to ya.”
“Thank you,” Douglas answered, trying to sound as though he spoke with millionaires every day. He bought three ices and took them over to Hal and Carson.
“Behold, London’s next millionaire!” Hal exclaimed.
“What did he say?” Carson asked.
Douglas sat back in his chair. “I’ll tell you about it later. Suffice it to say, things went very well. In the meantime, let us try to look like nothing so very out of the ordinary has happened.” They were still within eyesight of Carnegie’s party.
Hal chuckled as he downed a mouthful of his cherry ice. “Cool as a cucumber you are, Shaw.”
They finished eating and left before Carnegie and the others. As they walked home, Douglas’s mind filled with exciting plans. In a little over a month’s time, he might be putting together a deal—possibly the best one Henley and Company had ever known! This could only bolster his career. Perhaps Henley would even make him a partner. When he got to the office tomorrow, he needed to thank Alice for her capital suggestion. What a boon she was proving to be. He was glad Henley had had the good sense to hire her.
They were still walking along the street when Carnegie’s coach-and-four passed them once again. Carnegie gave a brief nod and a smile to Douglas as the carriage rolled by. Next to him sat his mother, looking a little less wilted and very satisfied at her position atop the carriage. She must feel on top of the world, to have gone from poverty to a life of such affluence.
A twinge of sadness nagged at Douglas as he watched the smiling woman seated next to her devoted son. He had never once considered taking his parents on holiday. Perhaps because he knew they’d turn him down outright. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t tried to help them, but he had to press them to accept any kind of financial aid, let alone something they would dismiss as a needless luxury. They were too stubborn and proud. The more Douglas rose in life, the more critical of him they had become.
If he could one day figure out how to make his parents proud of him, maybe then he would feel truly successful.
CHAPTER
Twelve
When Alice arrived at work on Monday morning, Mavis was at her desk. She was rolling paper into her typewriter in preparation for tackling the stack of documents waiting for her. She greeted Alice, then paused to sneeze into a handkerchief.
“How are you feeling?” Alice asked.
Mavis sniffled. “I’ve had the most dreadful cold. I couldn’t eat or get out of bed for three days. I still haven’t fully recovered, but I cannot afford to miss any more work.” She rearranged her handkerchief and blew her nose.
“I’m sorry you’re still not feeling well, but I’m glad you were able to come in. Mr. Henley certainly will be happy to see you.”
“I knew the work would be piling up, but this is even more than I expected. Mr. Dawson and Mr. Nicholls have already told me what happened.” She glanced toward the bookkeepers’ desks, but they were both busy at their work. Turning back to Alice, Mavis whispered, “They are indignant that Mr. Henley asked them to learn typewriting!”
“It was amusing to see their reactions,” Alice admitted. “But I can’t really blame them for refusing. They are busy enough as it is.”
“But so are you!” Mavis protested.
“Yes, but I don’t mind learning. I’ll look into taking a course. It would only be for emergencies, though. If for some reason you aren’t here.”
“Well, I hope there won’t be too many of those. Aside from feeling terrible and losing pay, there’s Mr. Clapper making everything worse. Mr. Nicholls told me he was spreading terrible rumors about me. Is that true?”
Alice hadn’t planned to bring that up, but now that Mavis had asked, she had to answer. “He insinuated some things, but I’m sure everyone here discounts them.”
“I hope so!” Mavis shivered. “Horrid man. He sees something perfectly respectable and twists it in his mind. The thing is, there is a clerk from the marine insurance company on the third floor who rather fancies me. We’ve eaten lunch together a few times. I know Mr. Clapper has seen me with him. His terrible imagination has no trouble filling in other lurid details that simply aren’t true.”
“As I said, everyone here knows not to believe everything Mr. Clapper says.”
Mavis shook her head, still worried. “If Mr. Henley hears those rumors and believes them, I’d be out of a job before I could say one word in my defense.” She blew once more into her handkerchief.
Alice patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m working on a plan that I hope will make Mr. Clapper a little less, erm, irascible.”
Mavis looked up at her in surprise. “Really? How will you do that?”
“I’ll tell you about it if it works. For now, you’d better get started on that typing. Mr. Henley is surely more concerned about that than about any dubious hearsay.”
Mavis nodded. “Thank you for the kind words. I suppose we girls have to stick together, don’t we?”
“Yes, well . . .” Alice wasn’t comfortable with the idea that she should stick up for someone merely because she was a woman. She’d do the same for anyone. “We are work colleagues first, aren’t we?”
“Right,” Mavis said. She straightened in her chair, gave Alice another grateful look, and began typing.
Alice had barely made it to her desk before Douglas breezed in. He wore a broad smile and had a definite spring in his step. He gave a hearty greeting to the bookkeepers and then made his way to Mavis’s desk. He gave her a solicitous bow. “How are you today, Miss Waller? All better, I trust?”
“Oh yes, sir!” She gave a quick swipe to her nose, then set the handkerchief in her lap as she attached her starry-eyed gaze to Douglas. “Ready for work, sir.”
It was a distinctly different answer than she’d given to Alice, but that was to be expected. Whenever Douglas was nearby, Mavis was so excited, it was as though she had an electric current running through her. Her obvious infatuation with Douglas made Alice feel sorry for that marine insurance clerk. The poor man would have a tough time getting her full attention as long as Douglas held her in thrall.
“Very good, Miss Waller! Carry on!” he told her brightly.
“Someone is in a good mood today,” Alice called out.
“Yes, indeed! Miss McNeil, could you come to my office for a moment?”
Alice could not think what this was about, but she willingly obeyed his summons. Given his demeanor, she figured that whatever it was could not be bad. She saw Mavis watching them with a touch of envy as they went to Douglas’s office.
Douglas tossed his hat and umbrella on his desk, the
n turned to face Alice. He was grinning at her in such a way that her heart rate seemed to triple. Perhaps she ought not to be so critical of Mavis’s reactions to him. His pull was undeniably hard to resist. He really was too handsome. That made it difficult to focus on the important things, but Alice was determined to keep trying.
“Is there some sort of good news?” she asked.
“Yes, and I have you to thank for it. Do you remember the comment you made on Friday, about Mr. Carnegie driving his coach-and-four in Hyde Park?”
Alice remembered now. With everything else that had happened this past weekend, she’d forgotten all about it. “Was Mr. Carnegie there? Did you speak to him?”
Douglas plucked a card from his coat pocket and put it in her hand. It was the business card for Mr. Carnegie.
“That’s wonderful!” she exclaimed.
“He was not able to talk for long, as he was with his mother and their friends. Although brief, our chat was friendly and productive. He’s interested in learning more about Henley and Company. In fact, we’re planning to meet in Liverpool next month, just before he returns to America.” He smoothed his coat lapels with the self-satisfied smile of a man who has accomplished something extraordinary.
“I’m so glad.” She handed the card back to him. “Mr. Henley will be happy to hear this, too, I’m sure.”
“I’ll tell him the moment he gets in.” Douglas returned the card to his breast pocket and gave it a joyful little tap. “The best part about having the meeting next month is that it gives us time to prepare. I’ll look at where his railway lines run and gather other important data. If we can put together a deal, we might make some very good money on that western wheat.”
For a moment, Alice thought he was including her in that use of we. Then she realized he was talking about Mr. Henley and perhaps Mr. Dawson, who was a master at tracking down all kinds of financial information about other companies. But then, the telegraph generally played a role in all these things, and Alice would be a part of that.
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